Page 9 of Serve
“When’s the press conference?” He murmured.
“Tomorrow at noon. We’ve rented a conference room at the Sheraton. I’m staying there, so I can manage things for us.” She said.
“Fine. I’ll give you an answer tomorrow morning.”
“But, I need to…” Sania spluttered, impatience showing on her normally composed face.
“That’s enough, Sania. You’re getting the answer when I’m ready to make it. If you don’t like it, you can leave.” He sighed, then pushed himself up from the chair. Tyler knew how uncomfortable she must be, because he was too. He held the door to his office open and ushered her out.
“Dixie, what’s wrong?” Tyler asked. Of all days for her to be sick, today was not a good one.
“Hell if I know, but don’t worry, I’m still here. What do you need?” She’d been coughing and wheezing all morning.
“I spoke with Grant. He said he can fit me in at four. I was hoping you could give me a ride to Houston, but that’s out of the question. You sound awful.” He felt much better today, aside from his sore ribs. The pressure to make up his mind about his retirement was exhausting. He needed to talk to his psychologist before deciding.
“I can do it!” She exclaimed, then a coughing fit ensued. When she was done, he spoke.
“You sound like hell. The answer is no. Shit, I can’t even rent a car. The press might find out and tail me.” Tyler stood, his ribs protesting the sudden movement. He wrapped his arms around his chest and groaned. The ironic thing was, he’d won dozens of cars throughout his career. He always sold them for cash immediately after the tournament. He was rarely home, so what was the point of having more than one?
“Let’s see what I can do, all right, sugar? I have an idea.” Dixie whispered, her voice nearly gone. She got her phone out and went to work.
Tyler walked out the sliding glass doors, stood on the deck, and looked up at the sky. Several minutes passed while he calmed himself down using the same deep breathing technique he did before important matches. A door slammed, and he jumped to his feet, wincing from his bruised ribs. He went inside and found Chip speaking with his aunt.
“No, it’s my day off, I don’t mind doing it, I swear.” Chip said, then grinned at Tyler. “Looks like I’m driving you around today. I even brought an extra hat. You ready?”
“Thanks for getting me out of the house. I was losing my mind.” Tyler said as Chip slid into the front seat. The truck was idled in the parking lot of a coffee shop.
“Well, I’m sure it would have been easier if you’d been able to ride in the front seat. You feeling okay?” Chip asked, placing their cups in the holder between them.
When Chip arrived, he admitted to seeing strange cars parked near the house. Tricking the reporters, Tyler had hidden in the back seat under a canvas tarp. As soon as they arrived at the coffee shop, he’d gotten into the front, careful to keep his head down.
“Honestly, I’m feeling better just being free of those damned reporters for a few hours.” He put the cowboy hat Chip had loaned him on, and pulled the front of it down over his forehead.
Chip pulled out of the parking lot, while Tyler reveled in the unexpected freedom. Living in a small town usually gave him the anonymity that he craved. Most people knew who he was, but they weren’t going to bug him about it. That was why he liked it here so much. It was one of the few places he could live a semi-normal life. The reporters parked outside of his house were ruining it.
“So where are you from, Tyler? You don’t sound like you’re from these parts.” Chip sped up as they exited on to the interstate.
“A little town outside of Washington D.C. called The Plains. I haven’t been there in years, though. It’s where I grew up, but it’s not home, if you know what I mean.” He rarely thought of his hometown. The Plains was beautiful, but his memories of it weren’t.
“I grew up in Houston, but ever since, well, Aunt Dixie told you about my parents. I don’t like going into the city anymore. So, are your folks there? Have you talked to them about all this stuff?” Chip asked.
Tyler winced. He didn’t realize driving him to Houston might be upsetting for Chip. He normally avoided speaking about his folks, but something in Chip’s voice made him want to talk.
“I don’t have a relationship with them.” He muttered, shaking his head.
Silence ensued. Tyler struggled to find the right words and found none. Small talk would not work with Chip. He’d been there for him, and didn’t deserve the brush off.
“Sorry, that was abrupt. My parents, they weren’t very good at their job, at least from my perspective. They sent me to boarding school for my first few years, then shipped me off to a tennis academy in Florida when I showed some talent. Once I became a success, they wanted to be part of my life. They’d drag me around to country clubs and parties to show me off. Finally, I put my foot down and refused. They weren’t bothered by my wanting nothing to do with them. My brother is in the family business, so they’ve latched on to him instead.”
“What kind of business?” Chip asked.
“Politics, charities, that sort of thing. Being seen at all the right places, while doing a whole lot of nothing.” The words tasted bitter in his mouth. What he didn’t mention was that his conservative, rich parents were another reason he stayed in the closet. A bizarre sense of obligation to people he had nothing to do with.
“You know, I’ve talked to Dixie about this, but since I’ve never had the chance, I’ll tell you, too. I mean, it’s about you, so…” Tyler fumbled with his words, then spat out what he wanted to say.
“What you went through would have destroyed most people. Having your folks taken from you the way they were, well, I admire your strength. Dixie raised you right.” Tyler hoped he didn’t mess that up. When Chip’s parents were murdered in a robbery, Tyler was away on tour. He’d spent hours on the phone with Dixie, consoling her over the loss of her brother and his wife. She and Sue had taken Chip in and raised him.
Chip reached over and squeezed Tyler’s hand. Their eyes met for a brief second, and Tyler had to look away. Chip switched on the radio, and they spent the rest of the drive listening to talk radio and sad country songs.
